


Unexpected Visitors

by orderlychaos



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SHIELD Husbands, Sappiness, Teasing, bottom!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson has had a rough couple of days.  Now that the mission is over, he just wants a shower, food and a decent sleep -- and maybe a cuddle.</p><p>It's a good thing his husband has made an unexpected visit to the Bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I am not entirely sure where Phil sleeps on the Bus, so I have taken a little creative license with the placement of his bedroom.

Phil Coulson let out a long sigh as he settled down on one of the couches in the Bus’ shared living area.  It had been a long, chaotic three days and Phil was glad the mission was finally over.  He was ready for a shower, a decent meal and about ten hours of uninterrupted sleep -- and not necessarily in that order.  The rest of Phil’s team looked just as bad as Phil felt -- they were all sporting at least a few bruises each and had sprawled out over the chairs and couches in various states of exhaustion.  Phil’s jaw and ribs were aching from his own injuries, but they were nothing serious -- which was even the opinion of a certified medical professional, although the doctor had given Phil a bottle of pain pills that he wasn’t going to take.  What Phil really wanted to do was spend the rest of the afternoon curled up in bed with his husband, but Clint was halfway around the world in New York.  Phil had known this would be the reality of his life now that he had a new team, but it didn’t stop Phil from missing Clint’s warmth and comfort, especially when Phil was exhausted and hurting.

“Stop brooding,” Melinda May said quietly as she sat down beside him, curling her feet up gracefully underneath her.  “It’s not a flattering look on you.”

Despite the loneliness that was starting to feel like a persistent ache in his chest, Phil felt his lips twitch up into a faint smile at her words.  “I’m not brooding,” he replied.

Melinda shot him a look that said she didn’t believe him for a second.  “Yes you are,” she countered, cracking open a water bottle and taking a drink.  “You’ve been brooding for days.”  Her lips quirked into the hint of a smile.  “Don’t worry.  I came up with a solution for that.”

Phil narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she was up to, but before he could ask, Skye stretched loudly and stood up.  “Hey, A.C., can we order pizza or something?  I’m starving.”

“Oh, pizza,” Fitz said with a grin, looking up from where he was slumped against Simmons.  “That’s a good idea.  But no mushrooms!  Mushrooms are horrible, vile things…”

“Fitz, there’s nothing wrong with mushrooms on a pizza…” Simmons replied exasperatedly, before the pair began talking over one another again.

When Skye began adding in her own opinions on pizza toppings, Phil sighed again.  He should probably get up and deal with the argument -- at least before it descended into actual yelling -- but the couch was too comfortable.  He was just gathering the energy to move when Skye trailed off in mid-sentence and Phil immediately looked up, expecting the worst.  What he found instead made his jaw drop.

Clint Barton was leaning against the wall near the stairs leading down to the cargo areas and Fitzsimmons’ lab, his arms crossed over his impressive chest and a smirk curving across his face.  At the sight of his husband, Phil immediately felt some of the tension in his shoulders disappear and a smile pull at the corners of his mouth.  Instead of the usual black-on-black uniform he wore around the SHIELD offices, Clint’s long legs were covered in well-worn denim and a grey t-shirt pulled tight across the solid muscle of his arms and shoulders.  His dark blond hair was a scruffy mess, as if he hadn’t bothered to dry it properly the last time he’d showered and there were purple shadows under his eyes that proved he hadn’t been sleeping well lately.  Even so, Clint looked _good_ and Phil had to ruthlessly yank his thoughts to a halt before they went somewhere inappropriate -- particularly when he noticed the black duffle bag resting beside Clint’s booted feet.

“Hey,” Clint greeted, breaking the somewhat ominous silence that had fallen, his sharp eyes looking directly at Phil as his smile softened into something faintly adorable.

“Okay… who are you?” Skye demanded, looking Clint over appreciatively.

“He’s a SHIELD agent,” Ward told her, his eyes narrowing as he shifted to put himself slightly in front of Skye and Fitzsimmons.  “How did you get in here without triggering the sensors?”

Rolling his eyes, Clint turned to smirk rather obnoxiously at Ward.  “Would you believe me if I said I used my awesome ninja skills to sneak past them?”

“No,” Ward said flatly.

Clint shrugged.  “Okay,” he replied.  “Mel let me in.”

Of course she had.  Sliding a look in Melinda’s direction, Phil caught her sly smile as Ward scowled in the background.  “I told you I had a solution,” Melinda said.

“Yes,” Phil agreed dryly.  “You did.”

Skye looked between Phil and Melinda a few times, before she turned to Clint again.  “Do you know what they’re talking about?” she asked, waving her hand in Phil’s direction.

Clint just grinned at her.  Deciding to let Melinda deal with the explanations, Phil climbed to his feet and -- ignoring whatever question Skye threw at him -- walked over to where Clint was still leaning against the wall.  Clint’s eyes tracked him the whole way until Phil stopped right in front of Clint, almost close enough to pull his husband into his arms.  After the last three weeks without Clint, Phil wondered why he couldn’t just do that even with his team watching curiously.  “Long week?” Clint asked him softly, his eyes dipping down to where Phil’s tie was loose around his throat and then back up again.

“You have no idea,” Phil replied on a long breath.

“Oh my God!” Fitz shouted behind them, interrupting whatever Clint had been going to say next and when Phil turned, the rocket scientist was watching Clint with wide eyes, a hand slapped over his mouth as Simmons whispered something in his ear, giggling softly.

“What?” Skye demanded, spinning in Fitz’ direction.  “What is it?”

“That’s Hawkeye!” Fitz told her, pointing.

“Wait,” Skye said, spinning back to Clint with a shocked expression.  “The archer?  From the Battle of New York?  You’re a _SHIELD agent_?”

Rolling his eyes, Phil turned back to Clint, who was starting to fidget at the attention.  “Phil, should I..?” he started to ask.

“Nope,” Phil said, cutting him off.

Clint had a moment to look startled, before Phil reached out and grabbed him by the front of his ridiculously soft t-shirt and pulled him in.  Clint came easily, melting into the embrace as he wound his arms around Phil’s waist underneath his jacket.  Letting go of Clint’s t-shirt, Phil shifted his hand up to cup Clint’s jaw and pressed closer for a kiss, only vaguely aware of his team making loud noises of surprise somewhere behind him as Clint opened his mouth under Phil’s.  When Phil finally pulled back, they were both panting softly and the rest of the team had gone suspiciously quiet behind them.  Uncaring, Phil leaned forward to rest his head against Clint’s for a moment.  “I have been wanting to do that for the last three weeks,” he admitted softly.

Clint groaned softly.  “I missed you too, Phil,” he replied, pressing forward for another brief kiss.  “ _So much_.”

Gliding his hand down Clint’s shoulder and arm, Phil tangled their fingers together and turned to face the team.  “Oh my God!” Skye said, grinning maniacally.  “A.C!  You’re totally sleeping with an Avenger!”

Phil felt his eyebrow twitch at her pronouncement and Fitzsimmons’ delighted expressions, his mind conjuring all the potential teasing he was going to endure over the next few weeks.  “That’s not exactly how I’d describe it,” he said as Clint’s hand squeezed his.

“How _would_ you describe it?” Ward asked, his eyes still narrowed suspiciously.

“I generally prefer to introduce Clint as my husband,” Phil said mildly.

Clint sniggered quietly beside him as Ward’s face went slack with shock.  Ward opened and shut his mouth a few times, clearly not sure what to say.  “Bloody hell,” Fitz muttered beside him.

“Oh, hush, Fitz,” Simmons said.  “I think it’s wonderful.”

“And hot,” Skye added.  “Definitely hot.”

Phil frowned at her, not sure he wanted to know what she was thinking.  It was probably going to be disturbing to his peace of mind.  “Want me to watch the kids?” Melinda said dryly, appearing beside him.  Then she critically ran her eyes over Clint.  “You need to eat more, Hawk,” she told him.

Glancing between her and Clint, who appeared to be on the verge of saying something flippant or sarcastic -- or _both_ \-- Phil decided he’d had enough of dealing with the day.  “You know what?  The number for the local pizza place cleared by SHIELD is on the fridge,” he said, turning to start tugging Clint in the direction of his bedroom and ignoring Skye’s catcalls.  “Have fun.  Don’t blow anything up.”

“Are you going to give me the grand tour of your sweet ride, Phil?” Clint asked, laughter clear in his voice as he crowded close up against Phil’s side.  They both ignored the comments the rest of Phil’s team was calling out behind them.

“I will,” Phil agreed.  “I thought we could start with my bedroom.”

 

~*~

Grinning, Clint let Phil tug him into his new office and shut the door behind them.  He couldn’t help it -- he’d _missed_ Phil, so fucking much and now he was there, on Phil’s fancy ass plane, Phil’s hand curled around his.  He’d barely remembered to grab his bag as Phil had dragged him off and he let it drop to the floor just inside the door, before flicking his eyes over the gadgets proudly exhibited around the room.  “I see you finally decided to display all your gizmos,” he said, turning back to Phil.

“I have a new couch too,” Phil replied, his beautiful blue eyes bright with teasing humour.

Clint waggled his eyebrows.  “Want to christen it?” he asked.

Huffing out a laugh, Phil crowded closer to Clint and Clint slid his hands underneath Phil’s jacket again, Phil’s familiar solid strength pressing him back against the door.  “You’re incorrigible,” Phil told him softly.

Clint’s breath hitched as Phil slipped a leg between his, Phil’s thigh rubbing against his hardening cock.  “ _I’m_ incorrigible?” he said, slightly breathless.  “Is this a bad time to mention your whole team knows what we’re doing in here?”

Phil leaned forward to rest his forehead on Clint’s again.  “They’re grown adults,” Phil said softly.  “Besides, I have to hide so much of my life these days.  I’m not hiding you, not from them.”

“Shit, Phil,” Clint muttered, his fingers clenching in the soft cotton of Phil’s shirt.  It sounded like there was still a conversation or two they needed to have, but not now, not when there was a ragged edge to Phil’s voice and Clint had missed him just as much.

Clint cupped Phil’s jaw and arched up for a fierce kiss, groaning a little when Phil deepened it greedily.  The heat and lust that had been simmering low in Clint’s stomach since he’d seen Phil on the couch flared bright between them, perfect enough to make Clint’s head spin.  He sank against Phil’s strength, happy to stay right where he was for as long as Phil wanted him there.  One of Phil’s hands moved to tangle in Clint’s hair as Clint tugged at the loosened knot of Phil’s tie, slipping it free of Phil’s collar and tossing it towards the desk.  Pulling back, Phil smiled, soft and warm and happy, and Clint shifted to push Phil’s jacket off his shoulders.  Throwing the jacket in the direction of the desk as well, Clint laughed a little against Phil’s lips when it sent several files flying off the edge.  Phil huffed, his warm breath brushing against Clint’s cheek, but he didn’t try to untangle himself to go hang up his jacket, so Clint counted that as a win.  “Incorrigible,” Phil muttered again, his hands moving to grip Clint’s hips, dragging Clint with him as he began walking backwards.  “Bedroom’s this way.”

Humming, Clint dipped his head to nip at Phil’s throat, sliding his hands up to curl over Phil’s shoulders as Phil directed them towards the door in the other corner of Phil’s office.  Phil’s fingers easily found their way under Clint’s t-shirt, Phil’s calloused palms running lightly up the skin of Clint’s back.  The touch sent a shiver down Clint’s spine and he couldn’t help but press into it, wanting to feel Phil’s hands everywhere.  Three weeks was hardly the longest he and Phil had ever spent apart, even after they’d gotten together, but things had been different since Loki.  Phil surviving had been the miracle of Clint’s life and he was determined to treasure every second that they had left.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Phil said softly in his ear, before biting gently at Clint’s jaw.

Clint gasped, letting Phil go long enough to help Phil strip off his t-shirt, getting tangled in the fabric briefly.  He laughed at Phil’s frustrated growl, and when he could finally see again, Clint kicked the door to Phil’s tiny, cramped bedroom shut behind them.  “Shit, Phil,” he said, glancing around.  “I think this is even smaller than my old bunk in the SHIELD barracks.”

Phil pressed closer, his hands landing on Clint’s ass.  “Then it’s just as well we’re good in confined spaces, isn’t it?” Phil replied, his eyes teasing and dark with hunger.

Groaning softly again, Clint’s mind was flooded with memories of some of the cramped rooms he and Phil had gotten into trouble in over the years.  Impatiently, Clint yanked Phil’s shirt from his pants and fumbled with the buttons, needing to get his hands on Phil now.  When his fingers didn’t cooperate, Clint had to resist the urge to just grab two handfuls of the fabric and rip until Phil chuckled and raised his hands to help.  Clint paused, his hand hovering over the thick, twisting scar in the centre of Phil’s chest.  It was healed now, but Clint wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to skip over it without stopping, even briefly -- just like Phil always hesitated over the scar from when Clint had taken a bullet and almost bled out in Morocco, or the scar from the knife wound in Bogota -- but Clint’s heart didn’t freeze in his chest every time he saw it anymore either.  The scar was part of Phil, a reminder of what he’d survived and that he was still here for Clint to touch and kiss and hold.

Glancing up at Phil’s face, Clint recognised the tiny, almost frown and knew Phil wanted to say something frighteningly reassuring.  Clint smiled and shook his head slightly.  He hadn’t seen his husband naked in three whole weeks, so instead of letting Phil speak, Clint let all of his emotions show on his face -- all of the relief, the gratitude and the love.  He still didn’t find it easy to let himself be so vulnerable, but he trusted Phil with everything he was.  “I love you,” he whispered.

Phil’s expression softened, his blue eyes going impossibly warm and bright, the way they always did.  “I love you too, Clint,” he replied, pulling Clint in for a sweet kiss.

Clint let his hands roamed the warm, firm muscle revealed by Phil’s open shirt, Phil’s chest hair rasping against Clint’s palms as the muscles underneath tensed at his touch.  “Enough mushy stuff,” he said.  “Shouldn’t we be traumatising your ducklings right now?”

Phil looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he gave up when Clint crowded closer and palmed his ass, grinding their erections together.  Sparks went off behind Clint’s eyelids and he grinned sharply at the way Phil’s breath hitched.  “Can we not talk about team while we’re having sex?” Phil said, his tone a little too breathless to be deadpan, before he tugged his shirt off the rest of the way.

“Okay,” Clint said happily, kicking off his boots as Phil toed off his shoes.

His lips twitching into a smile, Phil tangled his hands in Clint’s hair and pulled him in for another kiss.  Clint moaned, the sound muffled by Phil’s lips, as he sank against the warm, naked skin of Phil’s chest.  Staggering the few steps over to the bed, Clint tumbled them onto the mattress, bouncing and laughing a little as Clint’s usual grace escaped his and his elbow landed dangerously close to Phil’s stomach.  “Sorry,” he muttered.

Phil didn’t reply, instead arching up to suck a mark on Clint’s throat just below the hinge of his jaw, hands tugging at Clint until he was settled firmly on top of Phil.  Clint pushed himself up on one elbow, never tired of seeing Phil sprawled out beneath him, skin flushed and eyes dark.  “So fucking hot,” he growled, before leaning back in for a deep, hungry kiss.

Somehow, Phil got his hands into Clint’s jeans and Clint gasped when Phil’s grip closed around his cock, Phil’s hand twisting just right as he stroked.  “Wait,” Clint said, his breathing a little ragged as he pulled back and rested his forehead of Phil’s shoulder for a moment.  “If you keep that up things are going to be over quicker than I planned and I really want to be inside you when I come.”

“Yes,” Phil agreed quickly.  “Please.”

Grinning, Clint lifted his head.  He couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss Phil again, but he didn’t let himself linger.  “Where’s the lube?” he asked.

Phil blinked, endearingly baffled for a second.  “Ahh…” he said.

“Shit, Phil,” Clint teased, climbing off the bed with great reluctance.  “You’re lucky you’re married to a dashing and resourceful guy.”

With a grin and a wink, he ducked back into Phil’s office to grab the lube and condoms he’d stashed in his bag before he’d left New York.  When he made it back to Phil’s cramped bedroom, Phil had stripped out of his pants and socks and was propped up on one elbow, his other hand stroking almost lazily over his jutting cock.  Clint’s breath stuttered in his lungs.  “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed.

Phil’s answering smile was hot and sharp.  Tossing the lube and condoms onto the bed, Clint scrambled out of his jeans and underwear, intent on joining Phil naked on the bed before Phil killed him.  The heat in Phil’s eyes made his knees weak.  Phil reached for him as soon as Clint was close enough and tugged him down until he was sprawled across the bed again, half on top of Phil with Phil’s knees bracketing Clint’s hips.  “Hi,” Clint said, a little goofily.

Laughing softly, Phil slid his hands up Clint’s back.  Clint arched closer, because for as long as he lived, he’d never tire of the way Phil touched him, like he was something to be treasured.  Those long, capable fingers trailed over the knife scar across Clint’s ribs and the bullet scar low on his stomach, Phil tracing out memories as much as the marks on Clint’s skin.  Clint hummed, rocking his hips against Phil’s as he dipped his head to nip of Phil’s collarbone.  “Clint,” Phil rasped, his rough voice making Clint shiver, because this was all Phil with none of the always calm and controlled Agent Coulson left.

“I’ve got you, Phil,” Clint replied.

Reaching for the lube, Clint squeezed some on his fingers and tried to gather as many of his remaining functioning brain cells as he could.  Phil was flushed and panting, his eyes intent as he watched Clint and Clint had to grit his teeth to hang onto the edge of his control.  Running a hand up Phil’s thigh, Clint brushed a finger against Phil’s hole.  Phil shivered, his legs spreading wider and Clint took it for the invitation it was.  Phil’s eyes fluttered shut as Clint opened him up, Clint’s fingers twisting just right to pull a low moan from Phil.  Clint grinned sharply as he did it again, unable to look away from the shivers of pleasure crossing Phil’s face.  By the time Clint had three fingers buried in Phil’s ass, Phil had fisted his hands in the sheets and had stopped biting back his gasps.  “Clint,” he growled, slitting open his eyes.  “I need you in me.   _Now_.”

Never one to disobey an order like that, Clint grabbed a condom and rolled it on, before slicking himself up.  Biting his lip, Clint leaned over Phil, one arm braced on the bed and shifted until his cock was nudging Phils hole, his eyes slipping shut briefly as he sank into Phil.  When he was all the way in, Clint paused to just _breathe_ , because no matter the temptation, he wasn’t going to go off like a teenager.  Phil gasped below him, just as ragged, his legs coming up to wrap around Clint’s waist.  “So gorgeous.  Beautiful,” Phil babbled, his gaze locked with Clint’s.  “I missed this.  Missed _you_.”

Carefully, Clint reached down with his free hand to tangle their fingers together, leaning down to catch Phil’s mouth in a slow, messy kiss.  “Yes,” Clint growled as he began to move.  “Missed you -- _fuck_.”

Watching Phil come apart underneath him was -- and continued to be -- one of the hottest things Clint had ever seen in his _life_.  His skin felt overheated where it touched Phil’s and he couldn’t help but push closer, his teeth nipping at Phil’s bottom lip.  Pulling out a little, Clint shifted his grip on Phil’s hip, before sinking back in with a roll of his hips.  Phil’s back bowed as he cursed, hand reaching out to dig his fingers into Clint’s bicep hard enough to leave bruises.  Shifting again, Clint thrust a little harder and deeper, knowing he had the right angle when Phil’s hips jerked.  Phil uncurled his hand from Clint’s bicep, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Clint’s hair and tug him up for a breathless, uncoordinated kiss.  Clint started to move faster, their bodies slapping together, skin sweaty and flushed, and breaths shuddering.  His thrusts started to get rougher, less graceful as the beginning of his orgasm began to crackle through him.  “Clint,” Phil gasped.  “Please.  I’m going to…”

“Yes,” Clint ground out, driving deep into Phil with a hard snap of his hips.

Phil cried out, no words left as his back arched and his hands grasped at the sweat-slick skin of Clint’s back and shoulders.  Clint might have whimpered, his hips jerking forwards roughly again and Phil groaned, raw and wrecked, cock spilling wetly between them.  He squeezed down on Clint inside of him, until Clint was following him over the edge as his release crashed through him like a freight train.  Phil swallowed down Clint’s moan as he shook apart, stars bursting behind his eyelids.

When Clint’s brain slowly came back online again, he was slumped forward over Phil, breathing still ragged and his limbs heavy and sated in a way he hadn’t been in a while.  “Mmm,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the skin of Phil’s shoulder, before pushing himself off his husband.

Phil shivered when Clint pulled out, disposing of the condom as best as he could and cleaning them half-heartedly with the edge of the sheet.  Watching him with heavy-lidded eyes and a languid smile, Phil looked sweaty and debauched, but most importantly, Phil looked happy.  As soon as Clint was done, Phil rolled towards him, craving contact and Clint didn’t need another invitation to wrap his arms around Phil as his husband buried his face in Clint’s neck.  Clint tugged the blankets up around them, happy to doze for a while, Phil’s slowing pulse beating against his reassuringly and Phil’s fingertips tracing over his skin.

“If I didn’t say it before, I’m glad you’re here,” Phil said quietly after a while.

Blinking open his eyes, Clint watched Phil sleepily for a moment, humming as Phil’s fingers began tracing absently over the stylized bow and arrow tattooed on Clint’s hip.  “Do you remember how I got that?” Clint asked suddenly.

Phil smiled.  “How could I forget?” he replied.  “Natasha got you rip-roaring drunk and dared you to do it.”

Chuckling at the memory, Clint nodded.  “That was, what?  About a year after we became a permanent team?”

“It think it was about then, yes,” Phil agreed.  “Do I need to start checking you over for new drunken tattoos?  Or did you bring that up for another reason?”

Clint shrugged.  “No reason,” he said.  “I guess I’m just feeling a little nostalgic, that’s all.”

“Clint…” Phil began.

Clint rolled his eyes.  “Don’t worry, Phil.  I’m not suddenly upset you’re replacing me with a new team or anything.  It’s just… the world has changed so much.  I guess I just miss the simpler times when it was you, me and Tash against it, you know?”

Phil was silent for a minute, lost in his own thoughts, but Clint wasn’t really worried.  He, Phil and Tash had faced enough together that they were all closer than blood, a family born in the shadows of surveillance, quiet moments on the range and stitching each other up while bullets flew overhead.  Clint’s life -- and Phil’s -- might have been bigger than that now, with superheroes and alien gods and magical hammers, but the bonds between the three of them would always be there, humming underneath everything and keeping them safe.

“So how long can you stay?” Phil asked him quietly and Clint knew he was thinking about the Avengers.

“Kicking me out already?” Clint teased back, ignoring the heavy feeling that settled in his stomach at the thought that eventually he would have to leave.

“No,” Phil said quickly, pushing himself up on an elbow to look down at Clint.  “I don’t want you to leave at all.”

Clint smiled.  “I could always stay for a while, then.  At least until Mel gets sick enough of me to kick me off her plane,” he replied.  “I mean, the Avengers are pretty scattered right now -- and Fury _did_ practically gave me the GPS coordinates of your fancy new plane and demanded I not come back until I was ‘less annoying’.”

“Is that so?” Phil asked, his fingers stroking along Clint’s jaw and his eyes soft and warm.  “I guess that means you’re going to have to stay.”

“Okay,” Clint replied, knowing his smile was far too wide and probably more than a little sappy.  “Guess I’m staying, then.”

Phil huffed out a quiet laugh.  “Good.”

 

~*~

Phil woke up to the sensation of Clint wrapped protectively around him, one thigh tangled between Phil’s and a warm, calloused palm resting on his stomach.  As always, waking up in Clint’s arms was warm and comfortable in a way that his empty bed never came close to replicating no matter how hard he tried.  It felt like _home_.

“Mornin’,” Clint drawled softly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Phil’s shoulder.

“Morn’ng,” Phil mumbled in reply, his voice raspy with sleep.

Tilting his head slightly so he could blink up at his husband, Phil settled back against Clint’s solid chest a little more firmly and sighed.  Reaching up a hand, Phil burrowed his fingers through Clint’s messy, dishevelled hair as Clint dipped his head to press a kiss to Phil’s collarbone.  “I’m surprised you’re not up and around already terrorising my new team,” Phil said dryly, wondering just how much longer he could put of his responsibilities.

He felt Clint’s smile against his skin as he pressed another kiss to Phil’s neck.  “Me?” Clint replied with feigned innocence.  “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Phil said flatly.

Clint snorted.  “Okay, so maybe I didn’t want to risk Mel’s wrath this early in the morning,” he muttered.

Shaking his head, Phil didn’t even try to hide his smile.  “I’d save you,” Phil told him, yawning slightly.

Chuckling, Clint traced his fingers across Phil’s jaw, his eyes bright and happy.  “My hero…” he said, before leaning in for a long, slow kiss.

Phil hummed against Clint’s lips.  “I can’t spend the entire day in bed, Clint,” he protested.

“Actually, I was thinking breakfast,” Clint told him, grinning.

Swatting him on the shoulder in irritation at the teasing tone, Phil sighed.  “If we have to, I suppose,” he muttered.

Laughing again, Clint buried his face in Phil’s shoulder.  “You have to face your team at some point, Phil,” he said.  Phil glared at him in reply.  “Come on, are you really saying that whatever teasing they come up with is going to be worse than the shit I’ve put you through over the years?” Clint asked, raising his head with a smirk.

“No,” Phil said, “but then they’re not as _special_ as you are.”

“Mmm,” Clint said, pressing forward for another kiss.  “I think I’ve missed you enough to even miss the way you always insult and compliment me in the same sentence.”

Arching an eyebrow, Phil expertly twisted until Clint was suddenly sprawled across the bed with Phil on top of him.  “I could always put my mouth to a different use,” he said as Clint laughed.

A little while later, Phil dragged himself out of bed to sit at the table in the Bus’ small kitchen, watching as Clint piled his plate high with the eggs and toast he’d just cooked.  Normally, the smell of someone actually cooking a breakfast that did not involve the microwave had most of Phil’s team surfacing from their beds, but this time they were suspiciously absent.  Clint just rolled his eyes when he noticed the suspicious way Phil was watching the door.  “Shouldn’t you be enjoying the quiet?” he asked, putting the plate down in front of Phil.

Phil arched an eyebrow at the same moment Melinda wandered into the kitchen, dressed in her workout gear.  “I’d lose the goofy smile before the rest of the team sees you,” she said, heading for the coffee pot.

Blinking, Phil frowned.  “I wasn’t smiling.  Goofily or otherwise,” he replied.

“Uh huh,” Melinda said, her eyes dancing as she poured herself a mug of coffee.

Clint was studiously staring at his eggs, but his shoulders were beginning to noticeably shake as he held back his laughter.  Sighing, Phil decided he appreciated the gesture.  “Your opinion is noted,” he told Melinda.

The quiet of the kitchen was broken a second later by the sound of Fitz’s voice heading towards the kitchen as he complained loudly about something, most of his words technical enough that Phil couldn’t actually translate what he was talking about.  A beat later there was a loud thump as someone banged into something.  “Ow!” Fitz yelled irritably, before following it with a stream of curses.

“Oh, Fitz,” Simmons replied.  “Be careful.”

The scientists ducked into the kitchen a moment later and froze in the doorway at the sight of Clint and Phil.  Fitz opened his mouth a few times, before waving awkwardly.  “Hello,” he said.  “We didn’t introduce ourselves before.  I’m Fitz.  She’s Simmons.  We’re the engineering and biochem part of the team.”

“Clint Barton,” Clint said, introducing himself.  “I shoot stuff.”

Melinda snorted.  “You conveniently left out the part where you never miss,” she said.

“What, really?” Fitz said, grinning madly.  “I mean, I always heard the rumours but… it’s really true then?”

Fitz glanced between Clint and Phil for a moment, Simmons looking just as eager beside him.  “It’s true,” Phil said.  “He’s the best shot I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Clint blushed faintly at Phil’s quiet praise.  “Well, I am the Amazing Hawkeye,” he said.

“That is _so cool_ ,” Fitz said, turning to Simmons.

“I know!” she replied.

“Looks like you have a fan club, Hawk,” Melinda said, ruffling Clint’s hair as she walked past.  “Still glad you’re sticking around?”

The quick flash of a grin and the glittering heat in Clint’s eyes when he glanced over at Phil made Phil’s stomach do a long, slow flip.  “There’s nowhere else I would rather be,” he said, reaching out to curl his hand around Phil’s.

“I love you,” Phil mouthed at him as Ward and Skye noisily entered the kitchen.

 _Love you too_ , Clint signed back.

  
Fin.


End file.
